(_She sits on the "throne."_)

Denham.

(_crosses C_) Thanks. And now I want you to read something.
(_Goes to table and takes paper from drawer._)

Mrs. Tremaine.

What must I read?

Denham.

This sonnet.

Mrs. Tremaine.

Your own?

Denham.

Mine--and yours. Read it aloud.

Mrs. Tremaine.

I did not know you were a poet.

Denham.

Every man is a poet once in his life. You have made me one. (_He